Scout
by Harkpad
Summary: Tony and Clint find a litter of kittens at the Tower, but Phil isn't sure a fur ball/one more cat to herd is a good idea. Clint/Coulson (fluff piece)


"Wait. What?" Phil asked, looking up sharply from the paperwork he was doing to stare owlishly at Clint.

"A kitten, Phil."

"What about a kitten?" Clint had interrupted a report he was working on and he had started talking as soon as he stepped into the office. Phil was having trouble keeping up. He might also be getting a headache.

"One of the Tower security guys found a litter of them, like six of 'em, in the loading dock yesterday. He thinks one of them might be Siamese – you know, partly anyway."

"So?" Phil knew he was being obtuse when Clint narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms as he sat back on the couch in Phil's office. He couldn't help it, though. He was exhausted. Three junior agents had gotten stuck inside a training simulator this morning, which was hours of working with maintenance to get them out and a full debrief about why they found it useful to shove a quarter into a computer like they were three years old. Then Fury had just sent Phil a memo telling him to cut thirty thousand dollars from his bi-annual budget before Friday and no, Phil couldn't call Tony for the extra funds. Both of these things were aggravating as hell, and now Clint was talking about a tabby cat as if it were the most important thing in the world.

"Siamese," Clint said.

Wait. "What?" he asked, setting his fountain pen down with a sigh.

"I've always wanted a Siamese," Clint answered as he leaned forward again. "Are you okay, Phil?"

Clint," Phil answered, trying hard to hide his growing exasperation. "Are you seriously saying that you want to get a cat?"

"Yes?" After a pause, Clint added, "I mean, they're right there! Tony said the robots would be able to clean up after it and feed it when we're not around."

"Wait," Phil said, interrupting. "You already talked to Stark?" He felt like the situation was seriously slipping out of his control.

Clint grinned. "Yeah, I mean, he came with me to look at them. He's thinking of getting the orange tabby one that's there. It's adorable. He says he could build some cat doors and give them pretty free run of the place, plus he can put sensors in their collars to keep them from going where they shouldn't."

Phil couldn't help it. He laid his head down on the desk with a groan.

"Wait, I thought you liked cats," Clint said, and his voice was suddenly quieter. "It's okay if you don't want it. I'll let Tony know they can get rid of them."

And Phil knew he would, too. Clint didn't ask for much and Phil had never seen him get upset when things didn't go his way. Unfortunately, he knew that came from a lifetime of not getting what he wanted. But. "A cat, Clint?"

Clint sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he stood from the couch and headed for the door. "It was just an idea," he said with a shrug. "I'll catch you later at home."

Phil watched him leave, wondering what the hell had just happened.

That night they ate dinner alone in their apartment, which was usually one of the best nights of the week. Phil had thought he'd have to work late, but he didn't, so Clint fixed a quick stir-fry and salad. It was delicious as usual, but Clint was quiet. Phil was worn out and hadn't gotten home until almost seven, and they were eating in relative silence when there was a knock on the door.

"Barton, let me in!" Tony called, and Phil and Clint both rolled their eyes. Clint stood and opened the door as Phil wandered over.

"Shit, no, Tony," Clint said, and tried to shove Tony back into the hallway. "Not now."

"Oh come on, Clint! Look at her!" Tony held up the tiniest kitten Phil had ever seen and shoved it into Clint's face. It was a ball of tan fur with two sky-blue eyes peeking out and chocolate colored markings on the tips of its ears and around its nose.

"Tony, I didn't get a chance to tell you but we don't want it," Clint said, looking back at Phil sheepishly.

"Clint," Phil and Tony spoke at the same time, so Tony leaned around Clint and glared.

"Coulson, are you being a jerk about this? Did he tell you the robots will look after it? Dum-E is already following mine around with a brush in its claw. If he could speak he'd name the damn thing himself."

"You're keeping one?" Phil said, stepping closer to get a look at the animal in Clint's arms. "For sure?"

"Hell, yeah," Tony answered, and he reached out to scratch the tiny beige and black kitten behind its miniature ears. "These girls rock. Don't be a jerk, Coulson."

Phil didn't want a kitten. He didn't need anything else to keep track of in his world, and Tony and Clint themselves were a little too close to cats most days. A kitten would just complicate things.

But then he looked at Clint. The cat was smaller than small. It was probably about six weeks old and was the size of a teacup. Clint's hand enveloped it, and Tony almost knocked it to the floor with his petting. It had its tiny eyes closed and was leaning into Clint's hand and nibbling on his thumb playfully. Clint was looking down affectionately, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips curled up just a little in a small smile.

Phil sighed. "Bring it in," he said.

Clint looked up and shook his head. "No, it's okay, Phil. Really."

Phil glared at Tony and then looked over at Clint. "Let me meet her, and let's talk a little more. You caught me at a bad moment this afternoon. We should talk about it."

Tony gave a soft 'woohoo!' and then said, "I've got what you need if you want to keep her. Outside in the hallway." Even Clint looked at him incredulously. "What? I know you want it, Barton. Let her melt your boyfriend's cold heart a little and then grab the litter box, litter, and food that's out here in the hall."

Phil just sighed and waved Tony off, inspecting the tiny fuzz ball currently purring loud enough to fill the room. "She likes you," he said to Clint as they sat down on the couch. Clint looked down and smiled as the kitten took a tentative step off of his hand and onto the sleeve of his t-shirt. It wobbled a little, but placed each little paw carefully as it climbed up Clint's arm and onto his shoulder, where it sat, looking very pleased with itself. Clint chuckled, but then cried "Ow!" as the kitten leaned up and bit his ear playfully.

Phil laughed and grabbed the kitten from Clint's shoulder, staring into its sparkling eyes. "I already herd cats on a daily basis, you know."

"Yeah, but this one's fluffier."

"Messier."

Clint reached over and took the kitten back, and Phil laughed when Clint honest-to-god tucked the silly puff ball under his chin and nuzzled it. "This one would probably be better behaved than the cats you usually herd, you know."

Phil groaned and stood up. It was over. He was done, but that was okay.

"Where are you going?" Clint asked.

"To get the supplies from the hallway. It's clear that we are, in fact, keeping it."

"Are you sure?"

Phil leaned over and scratched the kitten behind its ears. "Well, it's fluffy and clearly already likes you," Phil answered as the kitten curled up contentedly on Clint's lap and purred like a motorboat.

"But you don't want the hassle," Clint said.

"I want you to be happy. And it's very cute." Both statements were true, and Phil knew that Tony would be good on his word to help make the cat fit into their busy lives.

"The cutest cat you have?" Clint asked, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Not quite. Close, though. Very close." He leaned back over and kissed Clint gently on the lips and then headed for the hallway. He called over his shoulder, "Scout or Qwirkle?"

There was a pause, and then Clint answered, "Definitely Scout. She'll be kicking ass and taking names before Tony's cat can find its litter box."

They took turns holding Scout while they got the box and food set up, and then finally decided it was time to sleep. A brief argument about where to put the cat for the night ended up with Clint winning and Phil closing their bedroom door with a sigh as Clint showed Scout the litter box right outside the master bathroom.

When Phil woke in the morning Scout was sleeping on Clint's head. He figured he was going to get to like the little fur ball after all.


End file.
